


and a star to sail her by

by cloudsandpassingevents



Category: Campaign (Podcast), Illimat (Board Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Queer Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, gable said thembo rights, its really just a self indulgent exercise in making two characters i like kiss, luckily hildred is dumbass-sexual, yeah i wish there was a more coherent overarching theme or point to this entire thing too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 05:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsandpassingevents/pseuds/cloudsandpassingevents
Summary: There’s a moment in falling, Gable has learned in the years following their own fall, when it feels indistinguishable from flying. When you reach the perfect stillness at the top of the arc, in the instant right before gravity collects its due, when it feels like – just maybe – there's a chance that the story will end differently than you expected. Hildred’s mouth is warm and dry and perfectly still under theirs and for an instant, it feels like the air shimmers and refracts into glass, bright and paper-thin around them, freezing Gable in amber with the smell of Hildred’s hair and the warmth of her hands and the feeling of her under Gable’s mouth.(or, the one where Gable and Hildred finally Do It)





	and a star to sail her by

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Hildred and Gable met in The Roost in Episode 19. Any other ambiguity re: time, place, how well Gable and Hildred know each other, etc. should be chalked up to the fact that I took three months to write this, and in the interim a LOT of things happened that put this firmly in the realm of AU.
> 
> Also, shoutout to the Skyjacks crew and James especially for writing a character that hit so many of my buttons (narrative and otherwise) that it motivated me to finish a fic for the first time in an actual year. Y'all are the real ones and I wish I could repay you with something better than smut.

“You have a nice room,” Gable finally says.

From across the (very nice – honestly, Gable isn’t just saying it to be polite) room, Hildred lifts an eyebrow. She shifts a little from where she’s leaning on the doorframe, glancing up at the ceiling, then the floor, then the bed. The bed where Gable is sitting, ramrod straight, trying to touch as little of the immaculate bedsheets as possible.

“I suppose,” she finally says. “We’re well taken care of.”

“That’s good,” Gable says quickly. There’s a little bit of dust on the edge of the side table, left behind by some hasty cleaning rag. They swipe it away with their thumb and almost wipe it on the sheets before they remember where they are, look for something else to clean their thumb, almost wipe it on their clothes, remember that they’re wearing a uniform that doesn’t belong to them, and finally just settle for gingerly setting their hand back down on their leg, their thumb sticking out awkwardly to the side. “Uh,” they say. “You know. It’s good when sponsors take care of their athletes.”

Hildred clears her throat. The noise makes Gable jump a little, their elbow clattering into the dresser, and the lamp on it bumps and sways precariously. “Ah – shit – ” They grab for it, still balancing on their elbow, and manage to catch it in their other hand just before it hits the desk. For a second, they stand there, half-afraid that if they breathe too hard the rest of the desk or the bed or the roof is going to collapse in on them. 

Two slow, careful breaths. The lamp stays steady in their hand. Gingerly, they set it back down on its base and sit back onto the bed, then look back up at Hildred sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

The edges of Hildred’s eyes crinkle, without her mouth moving. “No harm done,” she says. After a second, she adds, “It was ugly, anyways. Whoever chose it had piss-poor taste,” and this time the smile actually breaks through – small, but crooked and wry. 

And as if it was summoned, something warm coils in the soft space under Gable’s ribs – new, but becoming more and more familiar day after day. What a strange thing, Gable thinks. How foreign the gentleness feels, and how it somehow slots right into place in their body at the same time, like a bird coming home to nest. It settles in the room, and suddenly the silence weighs a little less heavy on their shoulders.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories about you,” they say quietly.

Hildred’s smirk splits into a wide, honest grin. “I’d hope so,” she says. “I didn’t win Aur Piora for three years in a row for no one to know my name.”

And  _ there  _ goes that moment, and  _ here  _ come the nerves again, back in full force. “No, there was – no need to worry about that,” Gable says quickly. “We, uh, we definitely knew –”

“What kind of stories are they telling about me out there?” Hildred asks, pushing off the wall. It’s a little unsteady – she takes a quick step forward that Gable might have described as a drunken stumble on anyone less self-assured, but easily catches herself before Gable can even react. Gable still barely stops themself from reaching out to steady them anyways. But Hildred straightens up, just over an arm’s length away from Gable, and the grin on her face gets a little more mischievous. “If there’s anything juicy going around, I want to hear it from your mouth.”

“Uh,” Gable says. They worry their lower lip between their teeth, trying to cast around for something that might sound like something Hildred wants to hear. A little, high-pitched squeak comes from Hildred’s direction, but when Gable looks up, concerned, her face is schooled completely still. “Uh, sorry,” they say. “It’s mostly about your flying, I think? Just – you know, how good you are, and how afraid everyone is of you, and – “

“That’s all old news,” Hildred says, reaching out and putting a hand on Gable’s knee – and when did she get so close anyways, Gable thinks, a bit frantically, wasn’t she across the room the last time Gable looked up – and leaning in until Gable can feel her breath stir the tiniest hairs on their forehead. “Was there anything interesting?”

And the strong, steady warmth of her hand is – Gable takes a deep breath, trying to steady themself. Every nerve in their body suddenly feels like it’s been lit up, racing through them to all focus at the one spot where Hildred is touching them. Their stomach is flipping like a sail in a maelstrom.

They look down at Hildred’s hand, then back up at her face, trying to think of what to say; open their mouth and then close it again.

Something in Hildred’s eyes shift. Slowly, she leans back onto her heels, taking the hand off of Gable’s knee. Gable barely manages to keep themself from keening at the sudden loss of contact, nearly stands up to follow her movement and keep her hand there.

“I’m sorry,” Hildred says slowly, after a second. “I think – maybe I misunderstood.” She crosses her arms again, but this time, it feels like she’s trying to fold in on herself. “When I came up here with you,” she says, “I was under the impression that you wanted to. Sleep with me.”

Gable blinks. Then blinks again. Then says, almost without meaning to do it out loud, “ _ Oh. _ ”

“But if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, I completely understand, it was my mistake for assuming,” Hildred is saying quickly. “And I’m sorry if I did anything that made you uncomfortable, if you want to go back down to the bar or even where you’re staying I can go with you, I know this city pretty well and it’s already dark, so I wouldn’t – “

“No no no no no no no,” Gable says quickly, so fast that they almost stumble over their words. “It’s not – that’s not what I – “ They don’t even know what they’re saying anymore, just that they need Hildred to – they’re not even sure at this point. To keep her hands on them, to not leave the room, to believe them when they say that they want this and really _mean _that, when they say it. “I didn’t mean – I just thought – “

Hildred doesn’t look any more convinced, and Gable thinks they might swallow their tongue. They take a deep breath, closing their eyes. “I’m not very good at – “ they start, then stop again, resting their forehead in their hands and trying to make their brain find the right words. 

“I haven’t done this in a while,” they finally say quietly. 

This, as in – sex, yes, but also the way Hildred’s smile makes something in their stomach dive and swoop like they’re soaring through the cloud cover to burst up into endless, blue sky. How the rough warmth of Hildred’s palm, callused and tough and scarred up, against Gable’s arm feels like a rope pulling them into safe harbor. There are tiny strands of hair that have pulled loose from Hildred’s bun curling over her forehead. Gable flexes their hands, just a bit, and wonders if they still remember softness; if they’ve been holding a sword for too long to be able to brush the hair back out of Hildred’s eyes.

“That’s alright,” Hildred says, after a moment. Something in her voice has gone a little soft, maybe even fond. She sits down next to Gable, pulling her legs up onto the bed and crossing them neatly. “Let’s just talk.”

The silence settles between them strangely comfortably. Out of the corner of their eye, Gable can see Hildred’s profile – the smooth slope of her brow; the bumpy, tall line of her nose; the strong jut of her jaw. Not for the first time that night, Gable thinks, Hildred is beautiful – the same way Flee is under the first rays of sun breaking through a stormbank, when the air is wet and sharp and feels like a knife in their lungs. 

In their dreams, sometimes they see the clouds from above, mountains rising from nothingness to swallow the sun and wind. Remember what it feels like to fly so far above their shadow that it disappears into the mist. And every time, they wake up and feel that familiar prickle of pain run down the scars on their back and it feels like something in their stomach has been carved a little emptier.

Waking up with Travis sleeping on their chest helps. So does going top deck and seeing Jonnit hanging precariously off the figurehead, or rolling onto their side closer to the wall between them and the medical bay and hearing Dref putter around, clinking things together and muttering under his breath.

Hildred’s hand on their leg did it too, but it also felt like they were spiraling through the air, crashing through the cloud cover and plummeting towards the dark sea below –

“What’s on your mind?” Hildred says quietly.

Gable almost jumps.

“Uhhh,” they say, extremely eloquently, scouring their mind for something to say. “Oh, you – you know. Flying – I mean – Heav – I mean,  _ having _ a bird. Having a bird, that’s what I said. Having a bird and  _ flying.  _ That.”

There’s a wrinkle between Hildred’s brows and a small smirk on her face, but the expression on her face isn’t unkind. “How long have you been flying?”

_ Much, much longer than you think I have,  _ Gable thinks, which is absolutely the last thing they can say. 

“I don’t really remember.” They carefully draw up their legs onto the bed, wrapping their arms around their knees. “It’s been so long.” It’s not exactly a lie. At the very least, it’s as close to not-lie as Gable can safely get, which – feels important, somehow. Lying is no hard task, but for this – it’s not that they can’t lie to Hildred, but it feels like they can’t, or that they don’t want to so much that it doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Seems like a hard thing to forget.”

“Well,” Gable says, a little stung, “how long have  _ you _ been flying?”

“Since I was nineteen,” Hildred says almost immediately. She flops down on the bed with a  _ whoof _ , spreading her arms and stretching out on the sheets like a cat. “The village I grew up in is on a mountain, right by a cliff. Too rocky for most of the big ships to land, so no good as a port town.” One of her eyes cracks open lazily, looking up at Gable. For some reason, it sends a tingle up Gable’s spine. “So instead, people carved out ledges in the rock, and they raised griffins instead.”

“You’re from a breeder colony,” Gable breathes.

Hildred huffs out a laugh. “Huh,” she says. “That’s not usually what people say when I tell them that.”

Gable frowns. “What do they normally say?”

“Something like, ‘Oh, that explains why you’re – ” Hildred waves at herself, a little sardonically – “ –  _ like  _ that.” 

Gable’s face must still be unreadable, because Hildred closes her eyes again, setting her hands back down on her stomach. “When I was little, I always used to watch the birds fly out at sunrise when they opened the cages. I’d climb onto our roof to see them – I mean, I was always climbing something or falling off of something – but just completely ignore all my chores so I could see them take off.” Her voice is so steady it’s almost hypnotic, like she’s reciting a lesson she learned a long time ago. “Anyways. I guess one day I figured that I’d learned enough from watching them that I could probably fly like them if I really tried, so. I just snuck out to the aviary and jumped off a ledge.”

Gable sucks in a sharp inhale before they can stop themself. The sound snaps Hildred out of her reverie; her eyes crack open, flicking over to Gable. Their face must be doing  _ something,  _ because she snickers, closing her eyes again. “I live, don’t worry,” she says, and obviously that must be true but something in Gable’s stomach still feels like it’s hovering, waiting to crash into the sea anyways. “I took off right over one the biggest one’s cage just as it was being let out, and landed right on its back.” She shrugs. “Born to jockey, I guess.”

“That’s incredible,” Gable finally says, quietly. The air between them goes silent.

Then Hildred shrugs, one side of her mouth quirking up. “Eh,” she says. “Who knows if it’s true, though.”

“But you said – “

Hildred sits up, leaning forward until her elbows can rest on her knees. “I was five when it happened – if it happened,” she amends. “It’s not like I remember. My parents told me that story when I got older, and I guess it just got stuck to me.” She looks at Gable, out of the side of her eye, and her face breaks into a wide grin. “It’s a  _ great  _ marketing hook, though. Sponsors  _ love  _ a child prodigy story.”

“But what if it isn’t true?”

“Does it matter?” She’s fidgeting with the pendant tied around her neck, but almost meditatively. “I’m not the person I was back then. So they can tell whatever stories they want about that Hildred, because she doesn’t exist anymore. The real version of myself – it’s who I am right now. And I know who I am.”

It’s a strangely final statement. Gable knows they should probably let it lie at that.

They take a deep breath.

“But doesn’t it bother you?” they blurt out. “To not know who you were?”

Hildred looks at them. For the first time tonight, something in her eyes goes serious and quiet, and the fear that they might have accidentally shown too much of their hand knots tight in their stomach. “Not. Um. Not that it’s something on my mind, or anything like that – ”

Hildred’s hand is suddenly on their thigh, warm and steady, and Gable pauses mid-breath and then, almost automatically, clamps their mouth shut.

“Who were you?” Hildred asks softly.

A thousand memories, fragments of half-remembered dreams and nightmares, flash through Gable’s mind. Impossibly bright, cold, light – the scream of iron along their back – the long, endless fall down to the sea below –

If Hildred feels them stiffen and flinch, she doesn’t show it. 

“I. I don’t know.” Gable finally says. “I can’t remember.”

“Well,” Hildred says. “Then. Who are you?”

The eyes on the feather – the  _ new  _ feather, that strange phantom-but-now-not-really-a-phantom-anymore limb that trail behind them like a second shadow – flutter. And Gable feels the strange, unfamiliar pressure of a thousand new eyes watching them from the darkness, waiting for –

They clench their jaw against the weight of all their gazes.

“I don’t think I know either,” Gable admits quietly. “I – . I thought I did, but. Now I’m not so sure.” Their throat feels like it’s tightening in on itself. They take a deep breath to force it open again. “I’m not really – I don’t really know how to start figuring that out.”

Hildred’s thumb rubs slowly over Gable’s knee – reassuringly, like the steady tick of one of Travis’ watches through the thin fabric separating their hammocks. They close their eyes, letting themself sink into the feeling.

“I think,” Hildred says slowly. “It’s one of those things where you just. Have to jump in and start trying things out. You know?” Her thumb stutters, then stops. “Just. If you know what feels good – that’s a good starting point for who you are, isn’t it? What makes you happy?” The weight of her hand lifts off Gable’s knee.

Almost instinctively, Gable’s hand goes to pull it back, before they realize what’s going on and freeze in midair. Distantly, they register that their fingers are still looped tight around Hildred’s. A little more distantly, they register that Hildred’s fingers are holding onto them just as tightly.

“Uh. Sorry,” they say, tugging their hand back a little to set it back down on their leg. They don’t miss the way Hildred’s face falls, just the tiniest bit, before she schools it back into neutral. It makes something small twist uncomfortably in their stomach.

So after a second, they lift their hand and slowly, cautiously, set it on Hildred’s leg instead. 

Hildred barely moves, but they don’t miss the way her breath goes a little faster, how she holds it for a second like if she exhales too loudly, Gable will startle again. 

That makes the same small, thin thing twist in Gable again. Hildred isn’t – she wasn’t built to be unsure of herself. Gable knows that even if they’ve only known her for a day, at most. 

So they point to her arm, instead, at the dark smooth lines that crisscross the skin, and say, “Tell me about these?”

Hildred starts a tiny bit, looks down at her arm. 

“Ah,” she says. “Like I said. I get one for every rider I unseat.”

“At Aur Piora?”

“There’s lots of other competitions,” Hildred says. If it comes off as strange that Gable doesn’t know any of these things, she doesn’t let on. “Aur Piora’s a big one, but it’s not the only one in the circuit. I’ve hit most of the others at least once – more if there’s a big pot or there’s good racing that year.”

She traces her fingers over the curving lines as her voice rises and falls, weaving stories about riders and races and birds and victories snatched out of the jaws of defeat. They could get lost in her voice, Gable thinks, in the way that she pulls sentences golden from the air like sheets of featherweave.

Her voice trails off for a moment, and Gable points at the last tattoo. “And the star?”

The corner of Hildred’s mouth tips up, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I said earlier, didn’t I?” she says. “A skyjack’s way of finding their way home.”

Without meaning to, Gable's mouth says, "Are you looking for one?"

Hildred barks out a short, surprised laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you,” she says. After a second, she says, “I’m. Trying to find one along the way, I think.” She doesn’t look up to meet Gable’s eyes. 

“How are you going to know when you find it?”

Hildred doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, gently, she reaches over and takes Gable’s hand in both of hers, turns it over so they both can see the tattoo, the redness around each stark line already fading away. It stings the tiniest bit when she starts tracing them with the edge of her thumbnail, but Gable doesn’t flinch and Hildred keeps drawing, fine and methodical, until she’s gone all the way around the largest star in the center.

“How did you know?” she finally says. “When you found it?”

And it’s –

It’s coming up top in the middle of the night and finding Jonnit awake and clinging to the figurehead, windspray whipping his hair and stealing away his voice so they have to shout to each other to be heard, or the steady rap of Dref’s knuckles against the wall they share on the days when he’s too tired or too focused or too trapped in his own head to talk and it’s easier to use rhythms and code to communicate. It’s making sure the curtains are pulled tight around Travis’ bed every night to keep out prying eyes and getting used to a small, warm weight sprawled over their legs sometimes in the moments before they fall asleep. It’s the day that Gable took Lucas out on a flight and turned around and saw the Uhuru flying below them, brown and red and shining in the early morning light, and without thinking, leaned down and said, “Let’s go home,” and the swoop in their chest and stomach as Lucas folded his wings and dived felt like – something falling back into place, instead of being knocked out of it. 

“I found something that I always wanted to come back to,” they finally say, slowly. 

Hildred’s hand stills, then continues its slow trace. “I’ve been looking for that for a while,” she says, with a small smile but something unplaceable in her voice. “I thought Burza Nyth might be it for a while, but. I think it’s losing its touch as well.”

“I don’t think it needs to be a place,” Gable says quietly. “I think – maybe sometimes it’s people.”

Hildred chuckles. “Spoken like a true skyjack,” she says, fondly, and Gable thinks that maybe it ought to make them nervous that they’ve said too much, but all it does is make them feel warm, a small flame flickering safe in the hollow of their chest. A small smile is playing on the edges of her lips as she looks back down at Gable’s arm. There’s a strand of hair that’s come loose from her bun and is brushing her forehead. Gable automatically reaches out to brush it back. Their fingers spark when they touch her forehead.

Hildred’s head tilts back, just the tiniest bit, into Gable’s touch, and for a moment, Gable’s gaze falls to her mouth and all of a sudden, they want –

“Can I – you don’t need to say yes to this,” Hildred says quickly. She runs her tongue over her lips, almost nervously. Her eyes flick to Gable, then back down. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Gable opens their mouth. Closes it. Swallows, and the movement brushes up against something thrilling in the back of their throat, like a songbird’s wings lifting off – so distant that it’s unfamiliar, how it starts off the same quick beat in their pulse. 

Hildred suddenly seems so far away. Without even thinking, Gable reaches down to take her hand. Lifts it to their mouth and brushes their lips over her knuckles, so gently that they barely feel the calluses against their mouth.

Hildred takes a long, tightly controlled breath. “Gable?” she says, and for the first time, a thread of unsteadiness is woven in her voice.

Gable looks up. “Yes,” they say, and then before Hildred can say anything, or move, or even get wipe the surprise off her face, they lean in and kiss her.

There’s a moment in falling, Gable has learned in the years following their own fall, when it feels indistinguishable from flying; when you reach the perfect stillness at the top of the arc, right before gravity collects its due, when it feels like for an instant, maybe it won’t happen today. Hildred’s mouth is warm and dry and perfectly still under theirs and for an instant, it feels like the air shimmers and refracts into glass, bright and paper-thin around them, freezing Gable in amber with the smell of Hildred’s hair and the warmth of her hand and the feeling of her under Gable’s mouth.

Then Hildred takes a deep breath and cups the back of Gable’s neck with her hand, pulling Gable in close and almost launching herself forward into Gable’s arms, and Gable feels the fall begin.

They barely manage to get a hand behind them before they both topple over, but Hildred still ends up sprawling across Gable’s chest as she tries to straddle their hips with her knees. It’s only for a moment, though, and Gable doesn’t even have time to ask if she’s alright before she’s sitting in their lap, knees on either side of their legs, and kissing Gable like there’s no tomorrow.

And her mouth – 

God.

She opens her lips against Gable and they find themself following helplessly, a hot shiver thrilling down their spine as Hildred traces her tongue along their lips, fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of their neck. Their other hand comes up to fist in the back of Hildred’s shirt – whether it’s to pull her in closer or to ground them, even Gable can’t tell – and Hildred must take it as a cue, because she breaks away from Gable just long enough to grab the bottom of her shirt and start to pull it over her head.

She gets halfway up before she suddenly stops, looks down at Gable, and the first unease Gable’s seen since this night began flickers in her eyes. “Is – is this okay if I –” she starts, but the rest of her sentence gets muffled by Gable taking the shirt and pulling it over her head for her, tossing it onto the ground behind them.

Her mouth is back on Gable as soon as the shirt is out of the way, sparking the same sharp, almost painful shock of pleasure in Gable’s stomach as before. Hildred kisses like she moves through the world, like Gable would have imagined – confident, steady, relentless – but it’s the little things – her fingers barely trembling as they trace along Gable’s jaw, how urgently she presses her tongue into Gable’s mouth – that give away the deep, endless hunger underneath. It sends a thrill through Gable’s chest – the tiny ways that Hildred, for all her composure, is losing control under Gable’s hands.

They run their fingers up her spine, over her shoulderblades and Hildred makes a happy, pleased noise into their mouth, so they do it again. This time, when Hildred sighs, they take the opportunity to tentatively move their mouth away and down, to suck lightly at Hildred’s lower lip.

It pulls a deep, sharp breath out of her, almost like she’s been punched, and then she’s cupping Gable’s face in both hands and pulling them in hard, mouths meeting in a clash of teeth and hot and wet. Whatever restraint she had before has disappeared; she’s kissing Gable deep and dirty and desperate, teeth and grabbing fingers and whispered pleas into Gable’s mouth that they can’t make out over the sound of their own harsh breathing and the heady rush of want coursing through their blood. 

Hildred’s hands trace over their back, their shoulders, before dipping down to their waist, pulling at the bottom of their shirt insistently and trying to work it up over Gable’s head without breaking away from the kiss. They do their best to help, switching arms to support Hildred as she yanks off one sleeve, then another, before she pulls it up and over Gable’s head and tosses it to the ground. Her mouth is immediately back on theirs, hot and wet and needy, and Gable feels themself collapsing into it so quickly that they don’t notice her hands on their back until they feel a dull pressure on the top edge of one of the scars –

“Ah – ” they gasp, jerking away from Hildred’s hands, and Hildred immediately sits back on her heels, hands half-raised in the air like she's ready to calm Gable like a wounded animal. 

“Is that – ”

“It’s fine,” Gable says, even if their voice sounds a little strangled to their ears. “Just. Uh. I’d rather – not there –”

Hildred is nodding before they even finish the sentence. “Yeah,” she says. “Of course. I’m – yeah. I won’t.”

When her hands come to cup Gable’s face, they’re careful and gentle, even as the calluses trace over their cheekbones and along their jawline, and she kisses gently, like she’s passing Gable a secret. 

It’s – it’s good. But her touch is too soft, like Gable is something precious she'll lose if she isn't careful, and that makes something under Gable's skin itch, like their skin is too tight for their body. They're not _fragile, _the scars should be proof, and the hunger in their stomach is only stronger for the sudden surprise bolt of adrenaline from earlier, and – 

Their body aches, again, a sharp and insistent need, and without thinking, they pull Hildred in closer jerkily, let her roll her hips against their body and feel her moan into their mouth when she finally manages to find the position that gets her somewhere that feels good.

The movement must unbalance her, though, because Gable feels her legs start to slip off and Hildred makes a surprised noise into Gable’s mouth, her hands grabbing at Gable’s shoulders. Gable grabs Hildred’s waist automatically, trying to pull her back in, but the balance is off and they can’t stay on the bed, so they grab Hildred tighter around the waist and stand up, barely catching both of them before they pitch into the carpet.

“Sorry,” they say quickly, pushing the hair out of their face with their other hand. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t–” and they start to let Hildred down.

“Wait wait wait wait, no,” Hildred blurts as her arms tighten around Gable’s neck and her legs wrap around Gable’s waist, and Gable stops dead in their tracks.

“Wait, what?”

Hildred’s cheeks are tinted red and she’s staring at the air a little below and to the left of Gable’s jaw, but her arms are still wrapped tight around Gable’s neck. “You’re, uh,” she says, “You’re very strong.”

“Oh,” Gable says. “Um.”  _ Yes _ , they’re about to say, until their eyes trace down the curve of their arm to where it’s settled around Hildred’s waist and under her legs, and then back up to Hildred’s face, which is an even deeper red now, and they say, “ _ Oh. _ ” They tentatively put a hand on Hildred’s leg, hitching it up a little higher on their waist. Hildred makes a high, strangled noise.

“Uh,” Gable says, half-taking their hand off Hildred’s leg, “Is this–”

Hildred crushes their mouths together before Gable even gets the words out, and Gable can’t help the groan deep in their throat as they pull Hildred as close as possible, hitching her up higher with the other arm. Hildred’s legs wrap tight around their waist, solid and firm and definitely enough to break Gable’s ribs without even trying.

The thought sends a hot shiver up Gable’s spine. Hildred is so  _ tiny _ , even for a human, and so, so goddamn  _ strong  _ at the same time. They run a hand up Hildred’s back, tracing their fingers over the the smooth muscles, and groan into Hildred’s mouth without meaning to at how they ripple under their fingers.

“God,” Hildred whispers, and there’s just the threadiest hint of neediness in her voice that makes Gable’s skin itch in all the best ways. “God, you’re –” she kisses Gable hard before she can even finish, like she’s drowning and so desperate she can barely breathe for it. “Please,” she whispers, between kisses. “Please, just –”

“You – tell me what you want,” Gable manages. There’s more they mean to say, but Hildred’s neck is right there and they’re not made of  _ stone _ , and they’re distracted by the way the thin skin that’s bounding over her pulse tastes – and by the sweet little noises Hildred is making above them, they think she is too – when Hildred’s hands tighten in their hair and pull their head back so they’re eye to eye. 

She looks  _ wrecked.  _ Gable barely catches the strangled little noise in their back of their throat as their stomach pitches with the  _ want _ that suddenly roils through them. Her hair is half-falling out of its leather tie and her mouth is so red that it looks like a splotch of blood blooming across her skin, and her eyes are almost wild, unfocused as they sweep over Gable’s face. 

Gable lifts a hand. It’s shaking, though they can’t tell whether it’s from nerves or exertion or –

Hildred makes a strangled noise when Gable presses their thumb against her mouth, barely dragging down her lip. Her mouth is so warm, and wet, and as Gable watches, her tongue slips out between her lips and traces around the tip of Gable’s finger. 

A low, surprised noise tears out of their throat. Without meaning to, their grasp tightens on Hildred’s jaw.

And Hildred goes with it, immediately slack-jawed, and before Gable can react, she wraps her lips around Gable’s thumb and sucks their finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the callused skin, and Gable’s brain goes all gray and buzzy and blank for a moment, caught in the sudden heat of her lips –

They’re so distracted that they barely register their knees going weak, the way they half-sit, half-collapse onto the sheets, until Hildred gets a leg around them and shoves, hard. Their back hits the mattress with a solid  _ whoomph, _ and then Hildred is straddling them with her legs locked tight around their waist and the widest shit-eating grin Gable has ever seen plastered across her face.

“Is that allowed?” they ask after a second, and Hildred chuckles, a dark, soft sound that makes a thrill run down Gable’s spine and pool between their legs. She leans down, her hair falling over Gable’s face, until she’s right by Gable’s ear, close enough that they can barely feel her breath against the lobe. Without meaning to, they squirm.

Immediately, Hildred’s hands wrap around their wrists and yank them up, pinning them hard against the mattress above their head. Before Gable even has time to gasp, she whispers harshly into their ear, “Even if it isn’t, what are you gonna do about it?”

A tiny, needy noise tears out of their throat, and Hildred laughs again, pressing one last long kiss to the skin by their ear before pulling back just enough to get to Gable’s lips again. Her mouth is hot and wet and just the tiniest bit sloppy, just enough that Gable instinctively tries to tug their wrists out of her grasp so they can get their hands on her, pull her closer –

Hildred’s grasp tightens, hard enough that it’s almost painful, and she pulls back. “What are you trying to pull,” she says, but the edges of her eyes are crinkled and soft, even if there’s an edge of testiness in her voice.

They really, really do try to think of something witty to say in response, they do, but their brain is barely working at the most basic capacity right now, so instead, they just say, “Can – can I touch you?”

Hildred blinks. Then that smooth smile is back in an instant, and she scoots her hips up so she’s straddling Gable’s ribs now, so she can hold Gable’s wrists down while leaning down and preening. “What parts of me do you want the most?”

In their defense, Gable thinks their eyes drop to her legs and stare for a perfectly reasonable amount of time, but when they look up, Hildred is smiling at them with that same, almost dangerous half-smile again. “Huh,” she says, and then: “Wanna get a closer look?”

Before Gable can respond, she lets go of Gable’s hands and slips her thumbs under her waistband, shucking off her pants in one smooth motion. They haven’t even hit the floor before Gable’s hands are on her – her waist, her hips, the smooth muscles corded down her legs –

Hildred shuffles forward, lifting one knee up and over Gable’s shoulder until she’s half straddling their neck, and they think –  _ Oh, that’s – _

Maybe their face shifts, because Hildred pauses for a second, looking down.  “Is this good?”

Now that Hildred’s where she is, all Gable can feel is the heat radiating off of her, filling the air around them with the smell of her, barely teasing them, and all they can think is how they want all of her –

Hildred comes easily when they wrap their hands around her waist and pull forward, moving her other knee up to rest it by Gable’s ear. There’s a moment when everything stops for an instant and Gable is looking up at Hildred on her knees, the shadow she cuts against the silver moonlight flowing in the window – when the only sounds they can hear are the way both of their harsh breaths rattle through the room, tangling and meshing with the pulse pounding in their ears. 

Then they pull, or Hildred bends, or both, and when they finally put their mouth on her Hildred makes the sweetest, most surprised noise, her hands coming to twist in Gable’s hair, and heat pools in their groin again, golden and needy.

They shift their hands down, gently tugging her legs further apart, and Hildred goes easily, sinking deeper into Gable’s face with a shaky sigh. Her hips are gently rocking back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm that only barely stutters when Gable tilts their head up and runs their tongue around her, even as the muscles in her legs jump and twitch under Gable’s hands.

Their mouth is already slick with the taste of her. They draw the tip of their tongue around her again, pushing into her with a slow but solid stroke, and are rewarded with an actual whimper, a whispered curse, the hands in their hair loosening and coming down to stroke at Gable’s temples.

She makes such beautiful noises. Gable wishes they could see how Hildred looks with her hair loose and tangled, eyes pressed shut, teeth worrying her bottom lip, breathing shaky and loud through her nose as Gable works over her, maps her out, memorizing the terrain, the geography of her skin, the places that make her hips stutter and jerk or her breath catch in her throat. The air Gable’s breathing is thick with their own breath and the smell of sex, the smell of Hildred, and it sends something buzzing low and insistent in their brain, drives them to keep pushing deeper, harder, seeing how many of those sounds they can wring out of her. 

They could lie here forever, Gable thinks, a tiny bit feverishly, running their hands down the smooth lines of Hildred’s legs. Just the breathless, humid, hot weight of Hildred on her, the taste of her all over their mouth and chin and throat, the sweet, high, needy noises Hildred is making above her. Her legs are so close to Gable’s face that they can feel the muscles in her legs jumping and shaking. 

They trace their tongue over her again and Hildred moans, her hips rolling in a slow, sweet stutter. One hand comes down to fist hard in Gable’s hair and Gable groans at the dull prickle in their scalp. Without really meaning to, they tighten their grip on Hildred’s hips, and are rewarded with a shaky, desperate whimper.

“God,” she gasps, and for the first time in a long time, hearing the word doesn’t make the pit of Gable’s stomach recoil. It can’t, not coming out of Hildred’s mouth like that, riding on a keening breath; not when Hildred is the only thing they can see and smell and feel and taste, pushing every other thought, desire, memory out of their head. 

They want to hear her say it again. So Gable smooths their hands up Hildred’s sides, tracing up into the small of their back, and pulls down, just as they push their tongue up right into Hildred, impossibly wet and hot around them.

Hildred’s legs clench around them, and she makes this impossibly high, wanting noise that Gable might think was pain if not for the way she grinds down hard onto Gable’s mouth, one hand fisted tight in Gable’s hair and the other scrabbling for purchase on the headboard. “Oh, fuck,” she groans, and Gable purses their lips and sucks and Hildred makes a noise half between a groan and a sob. “Oh, god,” she manages, and then – ”Gable, Gable – “

For a second, Gable thinks their brain whites out. Hildred says their name like it’s something holy in their mouth, and –

Gable doesn’t like praying, no matter which end of it they’re on, giving or receiving, but there’s always been something about the way it sounds that they can’t let go of – the way devotion rests on the tongue like a stone, catching on teeth and filling their throat with light. Hildred says their name like it’s the only word that she knows and Gable can’t stop themself from arching up into her, gripping her legs so tightly that their fingertips almost go numb.

When Hildred drops her head to her chest, Gable catches a glimpse of her eyes, unfocused and drugged and soft, and the idea that Gable is the reason she looks like that, that they can do that to someone as strong and powerful and in-control as Hildred, sends a thrill through their chest. They want to see how far they can go – just how high they can wind Hildred up before the collapse. So they purse their lips, sucking hard, and push their tongue up into her again –

Hildred makes a noise that’s practically a sob, her hips stuttering. Gable reaches up, grabs her around the waist to keep her in place, keep her close enough for Gable to grind their face up into her, drive more of those trembling, half-delirious noises out of her. If they close their eyes, everything else disappears except her – her sounds, her smell, her taste, the way her fingers are scrabbling over Gable’s head over and over like she’s searching for purchase. They twist in Gable’s hair, close to the roots, pulling a dull ache into Gable’s scalp.

One of their hands slides from her hip to splay over her stomach, the bottom of their palm resting just above the place the dark, coarse hair starts between her legs, and Hildred gasps –

Her hand comes down and tangles with Gable’s, then pushes it down onto the bed. For a moment, she looks down as Gable looks up, completely pinned, and her eyes are dark and hungry and Gable dry swallows, feeling more than a little like a mouse pinned under a cat’s paw.

“Hildred,” they manage hoarsely, their voice rough and unfamiliar, and they can actually  _ see  _ the shiver that runs through her. They lick their lips. “Please–“ and they’re still so close to her that their tongue almost flicks against Hildred on accident. If they just crane their head up –

Hildred gasps, her hips juddering forward as Gable manages to get their mouth on her again, and then moans low in her throat again, sinking down a little lower. Gable squeezes her hand, hard, trying to say  _ it’s okay, I’ll take care of you – _

“Wait,” Hildred suddenly gasps hoarsely, and then she’s clambering down, landing a little awkwardly on Gable’s chest. Gable barely has time to gasp before Hildred’s mouth catches on theirs, swallowing the noise that tears out of their throat. And Hildred moans, deep and sweet and desperate, and the heat coils bright in Gable’s stomach again. Their head is still spinning from sudden loss of Hildred’s weight, and the only steady thing in the world for them to grab onto is Hildred.

She makes a surprised noise when Gable’s arms come around her and yank her down, hitting Gable’s chest with a huff. Gable doesn’t give her a chance to catch her breath before they nose her chin up with their nose. Her neck is salty with sweat when Gable gets her mouth on it, wet and sloppy, and Hildred practically comes apart again under Gable’s touch, writhing and whimpering and clutching at their hair. Gable lifts a hand and cups the back of her head. 

Hildred practically wrenches herself away, even as another whimper tears out of her throat. And before Gable can open their mouth to ask them – was that okay, is everything okay, are you okay – she grabs their hand and pulls it down between her legs, grinding her hips down hard onto them, and takes the side of Gable’s face in the other, pulling them into a bruising kiss. It sends a shock through Gable, pulsing up their spine like a heartbeat. They arch their back into it, and Hildred groans, tightening her legs around Gable’s waist.

One of her hands finds Gable’s wrist, and then she’s tugging Gable’s hand down between her legs jerkily, her fingertips burning into the thin skin. “Please,” she manages, the words hot against Gable’s lips. “Gable, please, I want – fuck me, I want your fingers in me–“

Gable’s fingers twitch without them meaning to, brushing against Hildred’s legs, and she practically purrs, dropping her head to the crook of Gable’s neck. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice half-muffled by Gable’s skin, but still cracked and shaky. “Please, Gable, baby –“

Something seizes deep in Gable’s stomach, warm and  _ good _ , and they reach up, grabbing the back of Hildred’s head and pulling her up and crushing their lips together at the same time that they work their hand fully between her legs and push two fingers into her.

Hildred breaks off the kiss with a sharp gasp, her hips pushing back down onto Gable’s hand. “Wait, wait,” she manages, reaching down to grab Gable’s wrist and shift the angle, and God above she looks so  _ good  _ like this, eyes half-lidded and biting her bottom lip, with Gable’s hand between her legs. Another hot wave rolls through Gable, and they half-roll their hips up helplessly, even though Hildred is too far up above them for them to actually get any friction. 

They see the exact moment Hildred gets the angle just right, the way her brow relaxes and her body shudders to a stop, her breathing coming hot and harsh through their mouth. 

Gable crooks their fingers a little bit, spreading and twisting in a little deeper.

Hildred’s moan is muffled by the way she slams her lips into Gable’s. Gable twists their wrist again and Hildred pulls back to press their foreheads together. Her breath is coming fast and hot against Gable’s mouth, tiny whimpers riding on each exhale as Gable pushes into her. Her mouth is just close enough that if Gable leans up, they can kiss her, brushing their lips against hers over and over between breaths. 

“Please,” Hildred keeps whispering hoarsely, over and over, and Gable reaches up, wraps an arm over Hildred’s shoulders, running their fingers down her spine. 

Hildred groans, and Gable can’t help the  _ whoomf _ of air that escapes as she suddenly drops against Gable, pinning them down to the bed. Automatically, they pull her up until her face is tucked into Gable’s neck again, wrapping their arm more tightly around her. They can feel the vibration from her moans now through their entire body, in their chest and throat and stomach and it feels like their entire body is one enormous thread, vibrating to the pulse of Hildred’s heart as she shakes apart in Gable’s arms.

“Hildred,” they whisper hoarsely, against the shell of her ear. And Hildred makes a noise like she’s been punched in the gut, her shoulders jerking in Gable’s grasp. She mumbles something incoherently against Gable’s skin, her mouth hot and wet and sloppy against the soft rise of Gable’s shoulder, and her hips are jerking erratically, off-rhythm now, tiny whimpers tearing out of her every time she sinks down onto Gable’s fingers. 

Gable’s thumb slides back up to circle her clit at the same time that they push their fingers in deep, and Hildred half- _ shouts _ , barely muffling it in the meat of Gable’s shoulder as her entire body goes so tight around them that Gable can barely breathe, barely think, barely see, feel, hear anything except the tight, perfect sounds of her coming apart in Gable’s arms –

When she finally stills, her muscles slowly going limp until she’s heavy on Gable’s chest, Gable tips their head down and brushes their lips against the crown of her head – more just resting their head there than an actual kiss.

Hildred stirs, then mumbles something against their chest, pushing herself up. Gable automatically tightens the arm around her shoulders.

“–orry,” they realize Hildred is saying. She’s looking down at Gable’s shoulder, biting a corner of her lip and looking almost apologetic. 

When Gable twists their head around, they see the clean red ring of a bite mark against the skin of their shoulder.

“Oh,” they say. They reach up one hand to thumb at it, detachedly, and the dull ache starts a slow, pleasant shiver vibrating down their spine. “It’s alright, I – I heal quickly.”

When they look up, though, Hildred has a strange expression on her face that’s far closer to thoughtful than apologetic. Slowly – slow enough for Gable to realize what she’s doing halfway through – she lifts a hand and sets it down on their arm, tracing a thumb over the half-moon arc. And then she bends her thumb and digs the nail straight into one of the red marks.

Even knowing what’s coming next, the sharp spark blossoming into a dull, golden warmth that flows through their body and pools deep between their hips still gets a half-strangled gasp out of them anyways, their body twisting up into Hildred’s touch.

“Hm,” Hildred murmurs. Gable turns to look at her. Her voice is completely steady, measured enough that Gable might be fooled into thinking she was completely fine if not for the flush in her cheeks and the warm red slash of her lips, still wet and swollen. 

They open their mouth. 

Before anything comes out, Hildred puts her mouth on Gable’s skin again, and  _ bites. _

Gable’s entire body goes tense. They make a noise, or they think they do, or maybe it’s Hildred – they can’t actually hear anything past the sudden rush of blood in their ears, pounding to the pulse of their heart – and Hildred doesn’t sit up to give Gable a second to recover, doesn’t even move her mouth away. Her teeth immediately get replaced by her lips, hard and hot and sucking at Gable’s skin in long, delicious pulls. 

The first shock of pain makes Gable gasp through gritted teeth. They nearly pull Hildred off their neck reflexively, hand clenching tightly in her hair, but Hildred stays put, coming up with her other hand to tilt Gable’s head up higher.

Slowly, though, the pain molds into something duller, smoother, that undulates through Gable’s body like a wave. They can feel themself floating away on it, light and distant and hazy.

The only thing holding them down is Hildred – the sharp shock of her lips against the pain of the bite, her hands roaming over Gable’s arms, chest, stomach, the weight of her body right over Gable’s hips, just too high for them to grind up against her hips. Not that they think they can move right now, anyways. The only thing that feels solid, real right now is Hildred, like a tether anchoring them to themself; the rest of them is floating through the air, warm waves of pleasure flowing through their entire body.

They’re only vaguely aware of what Hildred’s doing – she bites them again at some point, they think, because they feel sharp red bloom on their bicep, and again on their shoulder, even closer to their neck, and hear Hildred’s soft laugh when they moan helplessly, writhing up towards Hildred’s touch until she puts her mouth back on them. “Does this feel good,” she asks against their skin, and Gable isn’t even in the right  _ universe  _ to find enough coherence to answer that question. They manage some kind of affirmative moan and Hildred rewards them with another sharp kiss, sucking a bruise into their chest. Their hands keep slipping off of her because they can’t figure out how to make them hold on tightly enough, but Hildred seems to understand what they mean, never leaves Gable without a hand or an arm or a hip on them somewhere. 

Then her hands are on Gable’s hips, tugging down at Gable’s pants, and for the first time, solid sharp anxiety shoots through them. “Uh,” they say, trying to force the fog in their head to clear. “I – wait – ”

Hildred immediately sits back on her heels, her hands resting on her legs, and Gable actually whimpers out loud at the lack of pressure. They force their brain into coherence.

“Just –.” Their hands feel too heavy to move, but they need Hildred’s hands back on them, so they will themself to wrap one around her wrist and tug it, gently, until it’s resting lightly on their hip, and try to remember their words. “I don’t know what you’re expecting, but. It might not be that.”

The words don’t even make sense to Gable’s ears, but Hildred tilts her head to the side a little, then finally says, “I don’t expect anything except you, Gable.”

When her hand wraps around them, taking them into her palm, Gable gasps, squeezing their eyes shut. Her other hand comes up to their hair, tangles in it close to the roots and  _ pulls  _ until the dull pulse of pain through their scalp is echoing through their whole body. And then she bends her head down, fits her mouth right over the bright red mark on Gable’s shoulder, and bites, and then Gable loses their words in the bright red swirl of the new pain painting against the dull waves of the old, sweet pain of before.

Their chest is tight and caught again, a tether pulling harder into the ground, but then Hildred slides her fingers down between their legs and presses two fingers into them, slides through the hot slick and –

Something in Gable goes lighter and lighter, and they feel themself rising and spinning again, like feather weave rising under the first billows of heat from the furnace, and Hildred’s hand is wrapped back around them, running a thumb over the tip while something warm and wet presses down between their legs, swirling around and teasing into them – is that Hildred’s mouth, they can’t even tell anymore –

Their hand flails wildly for a moment, before Hildred grabs it and pulls it down to slide it into her hair, and Gable can’t even help it, how their hand clenches so tight that Hildred gets half-pulled from where she’s lying.

“Sorry,” they manage, slurred and clumsy, but Hildred just moans, and that sends Gable spinning again, up and up higher until they can’t feel their fingers, their toes, their hands, their arms. They’re helplessly bucking up into Hildred’s hand now, trying to grind down against her mouth, and they don’t mean to, they want to slow it down, but they can’t last any longer – they can feel it like a tinder, sparking in their chest and threatening to set everything ablaze any moment.

Their voice feels distant, but they can barely hear themself begging Hildred, please, keep touching me, that feels so good, please, please I want to come, can I come –

Hildred tugs back so hard and suddenly that it actually pulls her hair out of Gable’s grip. They moan without meaning to at the sudden cold for half a second, but then Hildred’s straddling them again, pressed down against them cupping their jaw and kissing them hard, hot and salty and pulling the air out of their chest.

“Please,” they manage between kisses, and Hildred gasps into their mouth, “I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry, I’ve got you –“

They grapple wildly, grabbing at her back and pulling her down, until they’re pressed together without an inch of space between them. Their leg snakes up to wrap tight around Hildred’s waist, pulling them down so they can grind up against her hips, and moan into her mouth again at the sharp shock of pleasure. They’re so close, they just need –

Hildred pulls away for an instant, and then her mouth is hot, like a brand, against their throat, and it’s pulling at Gable’s chest now, their stomach, between their legs, dragging them upwards, and Hildred’s hand is between their legs, warm around them and pressed into them and she twists her wrist at the exact same time that she looks up, her lips red and wet and her eyes dark and liquid, and says, her voice hoarse, “Gable –”

The tether snaps.

For an instant, Gable is suspended in warm, amber light. They breathe in, slowly, watch the golden dust float by in front of their face –

And then it crashes over them like a wave, sending them tumbling down, freewheeling through the sky. Their stomach swoops, wild and free and just the tiniest bit panicked and it’s like flying just the tiniest bit too fast, soaring and diving down to barely skim the edge of the water before scooping up at the last second, the heady buzz of when the air is too thin and the sun is too bright and everything feels like so  _ much  _ that it cancels out everything else they wish they knew how to stop feeling –

They fall back into their body with a thump that knocks the wind clean out of them.  Their arms and legs are still nearly numb, strangely light, like maybe if they tried to stand they would just float away instead, like feathers caught in the morning wind. 

But Hildred is heavy and solid on their chest, her hands cupping either side of Gable’s ribs like she’s afraid Gable will fly apart and her head tucked into Gable’s neck, breathing hot and steady on her skin. She anchors Gable like a line speared into the earth, and slowly, slowly, Gable feels the rest of them begin to settle, as well. 

They slowly reach up with one hand and set it as gently as they can in the dip between Hildred’s shoulderblades. Their fingers reach almost to the edge of her ribs, and without really thinking, they gently scratch at the ridge of her shoulder, rubbing smooth circles into her skin. 

Hildred makes a noise that Gable can only describe as a purr and curls even closer to Gable, like she’s trying to crawl into them. It’s a little like Travis, when he’s at his sleepiest and loose and soft enough for Gable to pull him onto their lap without resisting, if considerably less pointy and with far fewer opportunities for accidental maiming. And just like then, something flutters and then finally sets down in Gable’s chest, and they feel the calm spread through them in waves, until it feels like their entire body is glowing a gentle, warm heat, from the tips of their fingers to right in the center of their chest, where Hildred is resting against them. Their entire body feels like one enormous heartbeat, pulsing at the air around them, and for a moment, Gable lets themself drop their head back and close their eyes, taking a deep breath and wrapping their arms a little tighter around Hildred. 

They feel Hildred stir against their neck. One of her hands lazily strokes down the side of Gable’s face, coming to rest where their neck meets their shoulder. Gable feels her turn her head a tiny bit to the side, and then, the light brush of her lips over the skin of their neck.

Something impossibly, terribly soft splits open in Gable. For a moment, they feel enormously old and enormously, enormously tired, and impossibly, enormously heavy – 

It’s an old, old feeling, the way it pulls at their ankles and drags down at their waist, but this time, Gable has the warm press of Hildred’s chest on theirs and her breath on their neck and it’s  _ good,  _ and they’re  _ happy,  _ and they think –

_ You know what? Screw off. _

Hildred makes a low, pleased sound when Gable presses a kiss to the crown of her head. It makes Gable hold them a little closer, instinctively. They clear their throat. “Hey.”

Hildred slowly lifts her head up, arching her back under Gable’s hand almost lazily. “Hi,” she says, her voice still low. She’s so beautiful, even in the dim light spilling in through the window that draws her in smooth profile. Instinctively, Gable leans in and kisses her – a little off-center and awkward, but it still sends a soft shiver down their neck anyways.

They can feel their cheeks heat up before they even finish pulling back. “Uh,” they say. “Sorry about –”

Hildred cups the back of their head and kisses them, slow and steady. 

When she pulls away, Gable almost follows after her, without meaning to. For a moment, they stay there, just looking at each other. The sounds of the bar waft in through the window.

Gable licks their lips. “I should go,” they say quietly.

Hildred half-opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something, then closes it. “Probably,” she says. “I think they might be wondering where we are.”

Gable looks outside to where the moon is peeking over the city walls. “I think we might be a bit past that.”

Hildred laughs. The sound makes something in Gable’s chest flutter again. “I mean, I don’t mind,” she says, standing up and picking up her clothes from the ground. “There are worse rumors that could be going around about me. There definitely are worse rumors going around.”

“I – as flattering as that is, we are trying to keep a low profile before the race,” Gable says, sitting up. “I, um. I think that would be best for us.”

Hildred snorts. “I don’t want to be the one who breaks this to you, but I don’t know how easy it’ll be for you to fly under the radar.”

“Because I’m tall?”

Hildred blinks, then laughs a little helplessly. “I mean,” she says. “I was going to say extraordinary.”

Gable blinks. “Oh.” They can vaguely feel their face going red. If Hildred notices, she doesn’t say anything, just plops back down onto the bed and starts pulling the jumpsuit on. “I. Yes. That’s – very kind of you to say.”

Hildred actually does laugh out loud at that. “Well, yes,” she says. “You are both tall  _ and  _ extraordinary.”

Gable isn’t sure what to say to that. They settle for sitting all the way up as well, looking over the edge of the bed for their things. 

Hildred hops down before they finish moving, reaching out and grabbing Gable's jumpsuit. They toss it at them. 

To her credit, when the jumpsuit hits Gable in the face, she looks briefly apologetic before the pillow that Gable hurls at her hits her square in the nose.

“I deserved that," she admits, smiling wide, and Gable looks down and can't keep themself from grinning as well.

She sits on the edge of the bed until Gable’s fully changed, then walks them to the door, holding the door open for them. “I’ll see you around?” she says, almost hopefully, then shuts her mouth quickly. “Well – I mean, in the race, but. Outside of it, as well?”

Gable opens their mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. They mean to say,  _ We’ll see,  _ but instead, what comes out is, “I’d like that.”

For the entire walk back to the hotel, Gable thinks about a warm mouth, and a slowly closing door, and the way Hildred smiles into her eyes like a child, still, even after all she's seen – bright pinpoints of light that dance and swirl around in their head like birdsong.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Sea Fever," by John Masefield.


End file.
